Killer Affair | Spencer Reid Short Story

Rights and Wrongs

Spencer:

The next day at work, the tension is palpable. I sit at my desk, surrounded by the usual chaos of the BAU bullpen, but it feels like I'm in a bubble, insulated from the outside world. The team is focused on the case, throwing around theories and piecing together evidence, but I'm lost in my own thoughts. The image of Gwen's smile—so cold, so knowing—plays on a loop in my mind. I force myself to focus on the case files in front of me, but every detail feels like it's slipping through my fingers.

I keep going back and forth between protecting and turning Gwen in. Every time I think i've just accepted it I remember we all do bad things, we all make mistakes. How far does someone have to go before Gwen gets them? How long before she considers lying punishable by death?

Garcia calls out, her voice a stark contrast to the quiet turmoil in my head. "Reid, I've got some new intel on our unsub!" The team gathers around her desk, eager for any clue that might lead to a break in the case. But all I can think about is Gwen, the way her eyes searched my soul, the way she confessed without saying a word.

Hotch looks at me, and I know he suspects something. His gaze is piercing, probing, and I have to fight the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. "Spence, what do you make of this?"

I clear my throat, trying to shake off the fog. "The MO fits with a pattern of power and control," I say, my voice sounding detached, even to my own ears. "It's likely the unsub has a history of violent behavior and is seeking to assert their dominance over the victims." It's a safe bet, a general profile, but it's all I can manage without my mind wandering back to the woman I've let into my life.

Derek catches my eye, and I know he's trying to read me. He's too perceptive for his own good sometimes. He nods toward the board, gesturing for me to elaborate, and I force myself to stand, to join the discussion, to play my part. "The symbolism in the crime scenes suggests a deep-seated anger or resentment," I add, hoping my voice isn't giving me away. "It's possible they've been wronged in the past and are now seeking revenge."

The team nods, absorbing the information, and the conversation continues without me. I stand there, a hollow shell of myself, as they throw around possible motives and profiles. But all I can think about is the woman I've shared a bed with, the woman who's now a suspect in the very case we're working.

As the day stretches on, the tension inside me tightens like a coil ready to snap. I can't tell them, can't risk her getting away, but I also can't bear the thought of her being caught. It's a battle raging within me, and I don't know which side will win. Finally, I excuse myself, my stomach in knots. I need to clear my head, to think.

I find myself walking the streets, the cold air biting at my skin, my mind racing. The world around me is a blur of noise and color, but all I see is Gwen's face. The way she looked at me when I told her I knew, the way she kissed me, the way she warned me about the ticking time bomb between
us.

As I turn the corner, I spot a small park, the trees bare and skeletal in the winter light. I sit down on a bench, my thoughts swirling like leaves in the wind. And for the first time since this all began, I let myself feel the fear, the doubt, the overwhelming weight of the situation.

What have I gotten myself into? Can I really love someone who's capable of such horrors? Or am I just a fool, blinded by my own desire for something... more?

I pull out my phone, the screen lighting up with unread messages from her. I hover over the call button, my finger trembling. I want to hear her voice, to be reassured that it's all just a mistake, that she's not what I think she is. But deep down, I know that I can't hide from the truth anymore. I have to face it, no matter how much it hurts.